


3 A.M. (trynna change your mind)

by DanicaVarder



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Angst, Choking, Emotional Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hallucinations, Hate Sex, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mild dacryphilia, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Power Bottom Kim Jongin | Kai, Recreational Drug Use, Sehun is a controversial character in this, Top Oh Sehun, Toxic Relationship, Unreliable Narrator, ballerino jongin, but not the good emotional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanicaVarder/pseuds/DanicaVarder
Summary: ... left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply,'Why'd you only call me when you're high?'
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 17
Kudos: 61





	3 A.M. (trynna change your mind)

**Author's Note:**

> Won't have time to post for Nonplaces until after Xmas so I'm dropping this in the meantime!
> 
> As the title suggests, this is largely based on the Arctic Monkey's song and music video (special thanks to [lonelyst8r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyst8r/pseuds/lonelyst8r) for giving the idea <3 READ HER FICS!! They're amazing!!). Feel free to watch the MV before reading this, as a lot of the scenes are borrowed.  
> Also, this was supposed to be funny, but it took a darker turn, so please proceed with caution and read the tags. Sehun is extremely misguided and his intentions are dubious.  
> Also, Sehun is technically under the influence of drugs/alcohol when they have sex, but believes he isn't.
> 
> All that being said: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents EXO, Kim Jongin, Oh Sehun, or their real-life relationship with each other. Also, some generalizations about the rock n roll lifestyle/industry are made in this fic, and should be taken with a grain of salt.  
> If you feel that any tags are missing, please let me know. I'm really shitty at remembering to tag everything.

_This feels good,_ Sehun’s brain thinks for him, because he’s not entirely _here_ at the moment.

No way he could be after finishing a joint with his friends in the alley. He’d arrived just as the last of the weed was burning up, leaving potent, lung-cauterizing hits that had him blazed in seconds. Yixing had encouraged him to take the last of the roach, leaving Sehun hacking and begging for a drink. Chanyeol’s beer was pressed into his palm and he had downed it quickly, fighting the taste in a futile effort to soothe his throat.

“You’ve gone soft,” Baekhyun chides, taking the actual last hit and crushing the filter under his foot. “You used to smoke the whole thing, no problem. This is why…” 

The rest of Baekhyun’s cautionary statement is left unheard as Sehun coughs once more— violently to clear his throat— and stumbles back into the dive bar where they’re having drinks. A few people cheer when he walks in and he breaks into a huge grin, waving and pleased with himself for no particular reason.

Actually, there _is_ a reason: Sehun and his bandmates have just put on the best goddamn concert this city’s seen. With Chanyeol on drums, Yixing playing guitar, Baekhyun their singer, and Sehun the heartthrob bassist, they were some of the best goddamn talent God’s green earth had witnessed in this millenia. And that’s not just his ego speaking. The countless awards and accolades speak for themselves: Electric Kiss is the epitome of modern rock ‘n’ roll.

And, as such, all his drinks are on the house tonight— or maybe Sehun is paying for them and he just can’t remember. Either way, he orders a rum and coke, and drinks like his life depends on it.

The rest of his bandmates come back soon after, and there’s a call for another round of shots. Sehun later realizes that he’s the one who called for them, but first, he has to stumble to the bathroom and take a leak. He mumbles what he thinks are the right words to Chanyeol, who nods and pats his back roughly, sending him careening in the direction of the washroom. He bumps into a few people along the way, but no one gets mad at him because he’s Sehun Motherfucking Oh. He’s hot shit. And all they do is fawn over him and ask him if they can buy him a drink later and he nods, even though he isn’t listening to them.

The need to piss is overwhelming, so he shoves the last few people out of his way and finally throws himself against the door of the bathroom. It swings open slowly, blessedly empty, and Sehun staggers to a vacant urinal. He sways a bit as he undoes his leather belt and black, skin-tight jeans. He’d forgone underwear because, if there was one thing he’d learned from being a rockstar, it was that there is no point in wearing more layers than necessary to get to your dick. Either he was fucking someone or he was fucked out of his mind and needed to pee, like now. And all the times in between, he was on stage, oozing sex appeal; luckily, going commando was better for that, too.

When he’s managed to empty his bladder without falling over, Sehun sighs happily, feeling a bit lighter and ready to drink more. He zips up and heads to the sink with minimal issues, washing his hands as best as he can in his state. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and can’t help but smirk. He looks fucking _good._ His all-black outfit is completed by a form-fitting turtleneck and leather jacket. A few strands have escaped his carefully coiffed hair to fall artfully over his forehead and the silver contacts his stylist had insisted on for tonight look intimidating despite the smudged kohl and redness of his eyes.

Just as he’s readjusting his leather jacket, the door of the bathroom swings open and Baekhyun lurches inside with a random guy, giggling mischievously. When he spots Sehun, his eyes widen with delight.

“Wanna ski?”

Baekhyun is impatient, so he takes a bump off the guy’s key before their friendly new stranger starts cutting up lines for them on the bathroom counter. Sehun ruffles around to find his wallet, but Baekhyun is faster, producing a bill and rolling it up.

Sehun takes the first two lines, pressing a finger against one side of his nose and sniffing through the rolled up bill on the other. When he straightens up, sniffing once more and handing the bill to Baekhyun, the effects are almost immediate. A look in the mirror confirms: he feels as good as he looks.

And that’s enough for him to start getting hard in his pants. It’s not too surprising; he’s a horny fuck under the influence and he’s under _many_ influences right now.

“Let’s go back out,” Baekhyun says after either ten seconds or fifteen minutes and Sehun follows after one more line.

Yixing is in the middle of an impassioned speech to the whole bar upon their arrival. Sehun only catches bits and pieces, as he sniffles and stares at the shot glass waiting for him at their table. He keeps raising it to his lips, only to stop when the speech keeps going. As much as he appreciates Yixing’s zeal, he really needs this drink to be properly fucked. And the longer Yixing talks, the more the effects of the cocaine will start to wear off.

Eventually, Baekhyun must get impatient, too, because he stands on a chair and yells something that has the whole bar laughing. They do their cheers and Sehun takes his shot and feels the energy come back to him, but not as strongly as before. He frowns and searches the crowd for the guy who had given them the coke, but he’s nowhere in sight.

Sehun groans. He’s high but not _pleasantly_ high. And that’s a problem. Because now he’s thinking. And his hand is drifting towards the pocket his phone is in. And he’s opening up his recent messages, and tapping on a name that he hasn’t seen in far too long.

To Jongin:

You up?

_Sent at 2:14AM_

The world is spinning a little when he looks up. A drink should steady him, so he mumbles something to the bartender that sounds close enough to English to get him a drink. He sips leisurely, glancing around the bar, making an effort to take in his surroundings. He sees Baekhyun dancing with a group of people. Chanyeol’s booming laughter comes from somewhere on his right. He catches Yixing talking to a strange looking figure in the corner of the bar. And Jongin is… what the fuck?

Sehun shakes his head and the image of Jongin making out with his drug dealer disappears, leaving just the stranger from before, leaning against a wall on his cellphone.

Figuring it’s as good of a time as any, Sehun approaches the dude, asking for another bump but the guy shrugs. “Your friend finished the last of what I had, buddy.”

Simultaneously drugless and drugged out of his mind, Sehun’s addled brain decides fresh air might be his friend and moves past the guy to stumble outside. He takes a few steps backwards as he swings with the opening door, holding onto the handle when he loses his balance, in an attempt to steady himself. Once he’s standing relatively normally, he glances around to get his bearings.

Third and Oak… Third and Oak…

Decisively, he turns left and starts less-walking, more-staggering down the street. It’s a grimier part of town, but not entirely unsafe. And a few buildings are still lit up: convenience stores and pizza places for the drunk to make their pit stops before getting home. Sehun is kind of like one of those drunk people, but he’s also high, which puts him a level above them. Because everyone knows drugs expand your mind.

He glances down at his phone, but there’s no response. No problem, he’ll send a follow up message. Like a follow-up email for business inquiries. Not that he’s ever had to deal with anything like that. All he’s known his whole life is rock ‘n’ roll: strumming strings and writing songs and chasing his next high.

To Jongin:

Where are you?

_Sent at 2:30AM_

But Jongin had been something different. The one thing not so “rock ‘n’ roll” in Sehun’s life. Something soft and warm and calm. The eye of Sehun’s storm.

Jongin is poetry in motion. That’s what had drawn Sehun to him, after all.

He had never considered himself a fan of the ballet before Jongin. It was such a stark contrast to his own world. But one of their shareholders had taken them to a show for some reason that only Chanyeol would remember. All Sehun could remember from that day was how quickly his eyes had latched onto him: Jongin Kim, the _primo ballerino_.

Nothing could have stopped Sehun from making his way backstage, but he didn’t have to do much when their shareholder was so filthy fucking rich with connections in every nook and cranny of the arts.

Laying on the charm had been easy, but getting Jongin to accept it had not. Their first meeting had been stilted and polite— at least, on Jongin’s end. Sehun had been a mess, maybe too greasy for his own good because Baekhyun had thought it would be funny to go to the ballet whilst tripping balls. Jongin had firmly but politely put Sehun in his place, but that only entranced the bassist more.

Sehun had not been above using his connections to get Jongin’s number. The first time he had texted Jongin was to get dinner together. To this day, he has no idea why Jongin accepted, but he had. For once, Sehun had shown up somewhere decently put together in nothing less than a Dior suit and shoes. He had brought flowers, used the right utensils for each course, offered his arm to Jongin to walk the dancer back to his car, and very politely asked if he could kiss Jongin good night.

Jongin had refused the kiss, stepped into his car, and driven off. Ten minutes later, a baffled Sehun received a text from the dancer saying that he had a good time and would be willing to have a second date in the near future.

The dizziness he felt in that moment could only be rivalled by his dizziness now, as Sehun continues to stagger down the street. Police sirens wail somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t give it much thought; it’s typical for a Saturday night. A man on the street makes a kissy face and suggestive hand motion towards him; Sehun frowns, stumbling backwards into the near-empty street to put some distance between them. The only man Sehun wants to do _that_ with is Jongin.

To Jongin:

I wanna see you.

_Sent at 2:48AM_

He passes by a convenience store and debates popping in for water, then realizes he could just ask Jongin for water. His place must be close now. Isn’t he in this neighborhood?

As Sehun tries to look for a street sign that would indicate his location, he glances inside the convenience store. His jaw drops when he sees Jongin getting railed against the counter by the part-timer. Just as he’s about to burst through the door, however, his vision clears up and there’s no Jongin, just a tired-looking cashier.

To Jongin:

Why no answer?

_Sent at 2:53AM_

The second date had, surprisingly, been at Jongin’s house. Sehun had not taken him for the type to invite anyone over, especially not someone like Sehun. He also had not expected Jongin to make such a delicious dinner for both of them. And he definitely had not expected Jongin to turn towards him in the middle of their post-dinner movie and ask if Sehun had ever found out how flexible dancers could be.

Cue the most insane sex of Sehun’s life that had him wheezing and out-of-breath until Jongin took the reigns and rode him to several orgasms.

Sehun muses that if he had not already been in love with Jongin at first sight, he might have fallen then.

The ballerino became Sehun’s new high. Every moment spent with him felt like it would be the best moment of his life. He would do anything to keep Jongin by his side. Even the domestic shit that Jongin liked to do, like baking cookies together and doing the laundry and going to the supermarket. Like waking up in each other’s arms and kissing each other awake, without caring about morning breath or how cold their feet were because Sehun forgot to set the heater to an acceptable temperature. Like Jongin coming into the studio and Sehun immediately putting out his cigarette and spraying air freshener so that Jongin’s nose wouldn’t wrinkle in distaste. Like Sehun bringing Jongin flowers after a performance and telling him how beautiful he was, because he actually paid attention to the show.

He had been thoroughly whipped. And it had been fucking fantastic. Better than any high he’d had before.

Sehun lurches to a stop and tries to look at his phone, to see if Jongin has responded yet. But his phone phases into his hand and the buttons look wonky and he can’t really tell what the notifications read. His brows pinch together as he blinks slowly and rakes a hand through his hair in annoyance, feeling the strands break away from the hold of hairspray.

When Sehun’s vision clears, his brain jumps to another thought: hail a cab. Surely driving would be faster than walking. His head shoots up to scan his surroundings and, as if some higher power was listening in on his thoughts, he spots a cab not too far from him.

“Hey!” he calls out, waving a hand frantically. Maybe they’ll recognize him and give him a free ride; he’s not entirely sure if he has any form of currency on him right now.

The cab begins to slow, pulling up next to him, and Sehun stumbles forward and peers inside to lay on the charm.

“What the fuck?!” he exclaims, instead. Jongin is sitting in the passenger seat. Actually, he’s leaning over. To the driver’s side. His head is buried in the lap of the cab driver.

He’s blowing the fucking cab driver.

Sehun recoils immediately, stumbling back out of pure shock. But when he squints, Jongin is gone and the cab driver looks pissed off. He flips Sehun off and speeds away, leaving Sehun fucked out of his mind and rideless.

Jongin is everywhere. And everyone else has him. But not Sehun. Why doesn’t Sehun have him? It doesn’t make any sense. They were _together_. But then they weren’t.

 _Because you’re a shit boyfriend_ , something whispers to him. _Because you’re a fucking dick. And you’ll never fucking change._

Sehun shivers, suddenly feeling very cold and very aware, even as he continues walking. He’s in the middle of the city. No idea how to get home. Even less of an idea of how to get to Jongin.

Jongin could make this better, right? He was always good about helping Sehun out of a bad high. Gave him water or tea or something to eat, took a bath with him, gave him tons of little kisses, rocked him to sleep.

Suddenly, the world is slipping out from under his feet, and his whole body collides with something. His breath leaves him and pain spreads across his body. The ground. He’s tripped. He should get up. But the ground is so soft now, so comfortable. He’s practically sinking into it. Is this quicksand? Quicksand always seemed like such a big problem in the cartoons he used to watch. But really, Sehun doesn’t think he’s ever seen quicksand in real life. Is that just a thing they make up for cartoons?

“Hey,” the word is distorted and loud in Sehun’s ears. And he hears a high-pitched whining sound in his ears, like in those war movies after a bomb goes off. He looks up and sees a man standing over him. A stranger. They look annoyed with him. “GET UP YOU IDIOT.”

Sehun winces at the volume, but it’s enough to have him scrambling back up to his feet. He blinks a few times and looks around and the man gives him a dirty look before continuing on his way. Sehun shoots him a half-hearted wave and continues on his way, too out of it to form a proper response.

Instead, he pulls out his phone to type another text. Maybe the other ones didn’t go through because of bad reception.

To Jongin:

Text me so I know you’re ok.

_Sent at 3:20AM_

And while he’s here, the Maps app might be his best friend. Jongin’s address should still be in there. Somewhere.

It’s not. Because Sehun had always been sober when he visited Jongin. And didn’t need directions for a place that he knew the location of like the back of his hand. And if he wasn’t sober, Jongin was taking him home. Because Jongin had cared. So fucking much.

A phone call, then. Maybe his message notifications are off, but his phone has to ring. And then he’ll come get Sehun and they can cuddle together. He won’t even kiss him. Just a cuddle.

The call goes straight to voicemail. Sehun sighs in frustration and buckles down for a long walk. He’s got to be close by now. Sycamore Street. And the cross-street is Alvarez. Or something like that.

Sehun trudges on, until he spots a liquor store that looks suspiciously similar to the one near Jongin’s. And these houses look to be the same style as Jongin’s.

With as much confidence as he can muster, he goes up to a door that looks most similar to the one he’s familiar with and knocks twice, sharply. He takes a few steps back to see if the light turns on, fixing his hair and trying to seem more alive than he is. He can’t show Jongin how fucked up he got, or he’d just yell at him again.

An old lady peers out of the window and they meet eyes. Oh.

Sehun quickly backtracks and finds another door that looks like Jongin’s. This one has a wreath on it. Is Christmas coming up already? Does Jongin hang up wreaths? He might. Sehun never remembers seeing one. He backs away from that door, too.

There’s only one thing left to do now. One embarrassing, but necessary and surefire way to find Jongin.

“JONGIN!” Sehun yells as loud as he can, in the middle of the street, at ass o’clock. He knows he’s a nuisance, that he might get the cops called on him, but he needs to know. “ARE YOU AWAKE?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” someone yells from their dwelling, but Sehun ignores them. He’s only tuned in to hear Jongin’s voice.

Suddenly, a door swings open a few houses down. And what face should peek out except the one that Sehun has wanted to see all night.

Jongin, wrapped tightly in a bathrobe, hair damp, and eyes furious, meets his gaze. Sehun greets him by stumbling forward with a dopey smile.

“Jongin! I’ve been trying to—”

“Is this a fucking joke?” Jongin’s voice is cold. And it stops Sehun right in his tracks. He totters in place for a second and tries to clear his vision and mind.

“What?”

Jongin exhales impatiently, looking around the street before dragging Sehun inside and shutting the door closed behind them. He rounds on Sehun with the ferocity of a man scorned. “You blow up my phone all night and then come all the way to my neighborhood and scream for me in the middle of the night? Are you on drugs?” He looks Sehun up and down and his expression grows more disdainful. “Oh. You are. Of course you are. Wonderful. Thank you for this Sehun, _really_.”

Sehun feels a pit growing in his stomach with every word out of Jongin’s mouth. His head spins a little and he looks behind him to make sure the couch is still where he remembers it being. It’s not, so he stays standing, albeit unsteadily. “I-I just wanted to see you.” He sounds small, even to himself.

Jongin bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes. One arm crosses over his chest while the other reaches up to cover his face with his hand, as if trying not to explode. “And, did you not think, on your way here, that I absolutely would not want to see you?”

The small logical part of Sehun’s brain had maybe suggested it, but had been quickly numbed into submission by how much he’d drunk. “I just…”

“You just what? Didn’t think about it? Were too selfish to consider how someone else might feel for once?” Jongin words aim to dig right into Sehun’s heart. “It’s the same shit, every time, Sehun. When will you just fucking learn?”

Sehun swallows roughly, suddenly feeling very wrong and very sick. His skin crawls and all the shit in his system is catching up to him. And the voice from before is back in his head and yelling at him, all the words Jongin is saying and more.

“Sorry… sorry… I’ll just… go…” He starts to edge his way around Jongin, towards the door, but is stopped by a hand on his arm. When Sehun turns around, Jongin still looks mad, but is clearly trying to control it. He looks Sehun up and down and exhales heavily.

“Drink some water first, idiot. I’ll call you a cab.”

Before he knows it, Sehun’s settled on the couch with a glass of water held between both hands. Jongin sits on the edge of the armchair across from him, arms and legs crossed as he watches Sehun slowly sip at his drink. The silence is deafening between them, so much so that Sehun is sure Jongin can hear him taking each gulp.

“How much did you have tonight?”

Sehun jumps in his seat and water splashes over the rim of the glass. Jongin rolls his eyes, unimpressed.

“Uh, some weed. A few drinks. A line or two.”

Jongin scoffs, leaning back in his seat. “You never change.”

“I tried,” Sehun pipes up, with courage that comes and fades out of nowhere. His voice lowers to a squeak. “With you. I was sober.”

Jongin’s eyes narrow, voice accusatory. “You were only sober if you thought I’d be around. And even then, I think I saw you high or drunk more than I saw you sober.”

“It’s hard to quit,” Sehun’s voice sounds weak even to his own ears. He takes another sip of water. “I’m sorry.”

“You said that so many times,” Jongin huffs, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t even know if it was ever genuine.”

“It was… it is!” Sehun hurries to correct himself. He hates when Jongin is upset, more so when he’s the reason why. “I never wanted to hurt you. Believe me.”

“Really?” Jongin meets his gaze with piercing eyes. But he doesn’t seem mad. He seems hurt. “You didn’t want to hurt me? So, when you showed up to my birthday on coke and insulted my family and friends, was I supposed to be grateful? And when you told my boss that she was— and I quote— a ‘tasteless whore’ because she didn’t care for rock music, was I supposed to praise you in front of her? And when you slept with _three different people while we were together_ , was I supposed to get down on my knees and suck your fucking dick in thanks?! Huh?!”

Jongin is standing now, face red and pinched in disdain, eyes tearing up. He clenches his robe around himself tighter and turns away, a sleeve coming up to his face. Sehun doesn’t realize he’s standing, too. But he can’t bring himself to take a step forward and comfort Jongin. Doesn’t know if he’s even allowed to. Because hearing all those things, remembering all the things he did, it’s clear why Jongin isn’t his anymore. And why he’ll never be Jongin’s again.

“I’m sorry.” And he knows he might get an earful for saying it again, and that it’s nowhere near enough to apologize for everything he’s put Jongin through, but it’s all he can think of saying at this moment.

Jongin doesn’t say anything right away, still shaking and shivering as his body is wracked with frustrated sobs. But when he composes himself enough, his shaky voice drifts across the room.

“The worst part of it all,” he confesses, looking at Sehun with tear-soaked eyes. “Is that I still loved you. And I still cared. And I wanted to make it better, wanted to make it work. But you were never willing to do the same.”

Sehun swallows around the lump in his throat. “I know. I’m—”

Jongin holds up his hand. “Don’t say it again,” he hiccups, walking away. He retrieves his phone from the kitchen, where he must have left it after getting Sehun’s water. When he comes back, he seems a little steadier. “I’ll call you a cab now. Do you still live at the same place?”

“Jongin…”

“Or would you rather go back to whatever party you came from?”

“Jongin,” Sehun can hear the ache in his own voice, and knows he himself is seconds from crying, too. “Please. Can— is there any way I can fix this?”

Jongin looks up from his phone to look at him, face carefully blank. “You can get out. And never talk to me again.”

His voice cracks, and it’s all the excuse Sehun needs to swoop in.

Jongin accepts as easily as Sehun had expected, phone clattering to the ground as his hands familiarize themselves with Sehun’s face, sliding into his hair, and bringing their lips together in a desperate, passionate kiss.

Because if Sehun is addicted to the high of drugs and drinking and everything that numbs him, Jongin is helplessly addicted to Sehun’s toxic love. The love that’s often possessive and mean and painful, but he loves it just the same. And some part of Sehun knows that, and is okay with taking advantage of it, if it means Jongin will hold him again.

It doesn’t take long for them to make their way to the bedroom. Jongin tugs at Sehun’s clothes, less with desire and more with anger. And Sehun pulls just as hard from fear, fear that this could all be a dream and he’d wake up passed out in his own, cold bed with no Jongin to warm him.

Somehow, Sehun’s hands end up above him, and he realizes that his own sweater is restricting them, which is also how he realizes that he’s naked. Jongin is barely clothed himself, mouthing around Sehun’s thighs and hips, plush lips sucking dark marks into his skin that Sehun has to crane his neck to see. Jongin’s own hand moves between his legs and it dawns on Sehun that he’s prepping himself. Before he can fully process that, though, his ex-lover’s mouth sinks down his erection and Sehun’s eyes roll back in utter ecstasy.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks with reverence as Jongin licks a filthy stripe up his cock. There’s nothing like fucking under the influence. Every sensation is felt exponentially. His sex drive is stronger from the stimulants. And the pleasure is tenfold.

The influence in question being Jongin, of course; Sehun’s previous high had drifted away long ago. Now, he’s drowning in nothing but the man in front of him.

And when Jongin crawls up his body and sinks down on his cock, all tight and hot and slick (where the lube had come from, Sehun has no idea), it feels like the ocean is tossing him about like a ship in a storm. The pace is consuming, the entirety of his erection sliding in and out of Jongin almost too easily, too quickly, and Sehun has half a mind to tell Jongin to slow down. But one look at the dancer’s face tells Sehun that he isn’t listening; he’s focused solely on taking from Sehun. Taking revenge for all the hurt, stripping away Sehun’s facade, pushing him further and further into submission, searching for some control in their relationship.

“I hate you,” Jongin says, punctuated by a moan, and he shifts and starts fucking himself even harder than Sehun had thought possible. When he throws his head back, the streetlights glint off of the tears dripping down his face. “I hate you so much.”

“Show me,” Sehun grunts, arms twitching from trying and failing to free himself from the skin-tight hug of his sweater. “Show me how much you hate me.”

Sehun gasps hard as Jongin’s hands descend on his neck and press down with no mercy. His eyes flutter shut as he revels in the pressure around his throat, choking off his airflow, killing him slowly, as all great drugs do.

“You’ve ruined me,” Jongin snarls brokenly, clenching down and moaning when Sehun’s cock twitches inside him. “You’ve ruined my fucking life.”

One arm frees itself, and it’s all Sehun needs to grab Jongin’s hips. He pulls a sobbing Jongin off of his cock and flips them over; Jongin’s hold on his neck never breaks, even when Sehun fucks back into his ass and pulls ragged cries from him. Sehun simply leans into the pressure, feeling his air supply get cut off with each thrust forward. He could die right now and it wouldn't matter, because at least he would have died being held by Jongin, even if it was by the neck.

Jongin doesn’t stop cursing Sehun even as he convulses through his orgasm, tightening his hold on Sehun’s throat until he’s coming, too. And when Sehun doesn’t pull out right away, he starts pushing and scratching at Sehun’s chest, leaving pretty red lines that burn so good. Sehun almost doesn’t want him to stop, feels like he deserves every line as if it’s proof of his wrongdoings. But when they start bordering on pain, he has no choice but to restrain Jongin’s hands between their cum-slicked abdomens.

“Hate you,” Jongin repeats, crying and shoving with all his might while Sehun leans down to kiss away those gorgeous tears. The evidence of Jongin’s anger is salty on his tongue. “H-hate—”

“I know,” Sehun whispers, tasting the wonderful honey skin when the tears have disappeared. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not,” Jongin whines, suddenly going limp beneath him. “You’re going to get high again. And you’re going to drink. And you’re going to crawl back to me. And make me feel like that bad guy. And this is going to keep happening and happening, until you ruin me for good.”

“It won’t,” Sehun promises, but he sounds exactly like he had a few months ago, when he’d been on molly and a scene not too dissimilar from this one had played out. And the months before that, when he’d shown up on Jongin’s steps wasted out of his mind and begging him to take him back.

And suddenly, the sentence Baekhyun had said outside of the bar completes itself: “This is why you don’t go and fall in love.”

Because once you get the high of a love like theirs, the regular stuff just doesn’t quite cut it anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I had several different endings for this (one of which would eventually lead to a happier ending), but was feeling ~some type of way~ when I was finishing this and decided that a non-happy ending would be better suited to honoring the original song and music video by the Arctic Monkeys.  
> Regardless, I hope that this was an enjoyable read! Apologies for any bad feelings that may result, but imagine how much it hurt me to write it 🙃 All I wanted to do was give Sehun his hugs and kisses and instead I make him suffer 🤧


End file.
